Third Part of the Night
by takesguts
Summary: Infidelity AU. Such a fine line between what you have, and what you want. [Kid/Liz. Soul/Liz. Soul/Maka.]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: looking for a beta. This prologue-esque thing is a really speedy introduction to the main part of the story, which will be updated with no real beginning and end. I am unsure where I plan on going with this exactly but I have big, big plans. This fic is holding a special place in my heart. Thank you for reading, please enjoy!**

Our story starts off with two high school sweethearts, Liz and Soul. Recently engaged, they live in Liz's parent's old house, though she doesn't speak to them anymore. It's right outside of New York and it's nice. Liz's sister, Patti lives with them and goes to school, while her and Soul work. Her, a 9-5 secretarial job during the week and every other Friday and Saturday night serving or bartending at the local dive.

Then the most peculiar thing happens where her and Patti get this letter stating they've been left the deed to the bar their great uncle has in LA. A great uncle they never knew, the rights to a business they've never been to, and a check for ten thousand dollars. It feels like reality television, or a too good to be true dream. Things like this don't happen in real life, let alone to a humble, disjointed family in Smalltown, USA, right outside of everything they've ever wanted.

Next, there's all this thinking to do, discussions to be had, plans to be made. Arguments, lots of those, because Soul is rational and says they shouldn't drop their lives here to move across the country for a what-if, possibly, maybe. He's right, in ways, Liz knows, but she can feel an excitement in her bones she's never felt before. This town is too small, memories too stale and foul; everything she's ever dreamed of is anywhere but here. It's weeks of stress and strain; days of radio silence turned into nights of stereo screaming.

In the end, he relents; because he loves her, he does, and opportunities like this are once in a lifetime. A lifetime he plans on spending with her, and it should be where she deserves.

So they move; it isn't hard for Patty to transfer schools, and LA is filled with tattoo studios dying for the story of an up and coming stranger from a dusty place in the middle of nowhere. People always want to turn a nobody into a somebody.

Like even more magic; and it is magic, what is happening to Liz and her family, they find an apartment not too far from the restaurant, and with only a brief close of the already established business where they renovated a bit, updated - Patty is, after all, going to school for interior design - they reopen and find easy success. Liz can hardly believe this incredible luck they're having, for the first time in their lives. She almost can't believe how things are falling into place, pinches herself every morning, but it's happening and it's amazing, even more amazing then when Soul proposed to her. Of course, Liz would never tell him that, not even jokingly because she knows Soul hates it here, in this city. He hates how bright it is, how loud. It's constant movement, a buzz of relentless noise, high heels, drugs and parties. Soul hates their street, his boss at the tattoo parlor he started at, he hates the public transportation; it's a city of suffocation. But he supports Liz, endlessly, he's happy for her, truly. Even if he's unhappy where he's at, his fiancee is getting everything she's ever deserved and they're together and it'll work out, somehow.

All this change, the leaps and bounds forward her family is making for themselves; there's nothing like the rush she gets when she's busy at the restaurant. She misses being home with Patty and Soul, is always doing a million and one things a day, but she's doing this for them. She's traded her lowcut jeans and combat boots for little black dresses and high heels, sipping cocktails instead of swigging beers. It's for us, she thinks every night she comes home and settles in bed next to her fiance, who is already asleep. When everything is settled, they will get married, have a successful business. It can only go up from here.

She should have known that just because something may have meant to happen, doesn't mean it comes without a price.


	2. Catalyst

**A/N: Apparently something weird happened with the text the first time I tried to post this...whoops. Mah b.**

Right out of law school, Kid gets offered a job at one of the most respected firms in downtown Death. White collar clients, high profile cases; the kind of job most law students spend their entire career dreaming of. While he had contented himself to the idea of being just like everyone else and having to work up the ranks, he knew that was his far off dream. Being the son of the city's mayor comes with the responsibility of reputation, however unfair and embarrassing.

However humble, Kid is also not stupid, so of course he takes it. Just like he takes being the office bitch boy his very first week. This he expected; having the most important elected official of the city meant nothing to these guys, whose parents were only slightly lesser elected officials. Hell, most of them probably have golfed or fenced with his father on numerous occasions. That being so, he is prepared for the frivolous errands; coffee runs, making copies, answering phones even though there is two hired secretaries. It's all a test, he knows, to see if his pride will get in the way of his ability to cope.

His informal initiation lasts until Friday. At the end of the day, his coworkers invite him to the bar two buildings down. A sort of male bonding ritual, Kid assumes when he accepts because there's all sort of howls and jeers from the guys as they close up and make their way over to the bar. This Afternoon, is the sign that hangs above the door, whimsical and almost endearing, very unlike the dim, speakeasy feel of the inside. It's a beautiful place, dark woods and oaks, rich colors; definitely the sort of sophistication his father would approve of.

Getting drinks with acquaintances, Kid thinks, looking around the table. This is something he rarely - if ever - did in all his years of schooling. Always too busy studying, preparing, staying focused. He had a goal and not a thing could deter or distract him from it. There were no bangers, no drugs, no hook ups. In fact, his classmates used to joke he was the only potential lawyer that still had a relationship with his father, and as a result he was unfit for the opposite sex.

Three girls in entire life; first kiss, first date, first relationship.

Despite all three not having lasted too long, Kid never felt it was because he was unfit. Growing up in a political household with a single father made his priorities different than most boys; getting laid never even made his top five.

Now that he's accomplished the most important things on his list; school, apartment, extensive suit collection, graduating, job - sex can now fill in a slot. He decides this in the middle of wings and work banter, just at the very moment he sees her just a couple of booths down.

Yes, her. A girl. There's a girl.

He almost wishes there was someone around who would understand how crucial this experience is for him. For the first time in his life his hormones and synapses are responding and firing in a way that he knows is normal for most men, but has remained largely abnormal for himself. In that moment he feels primal, behaving on pure instinct with how he checks her out, unable to stop his eyes from moving over her body in a way he knows is absolutely lewd.

Subtlety fails in light of inexperience, he supposes, because at the same time he inhales sharply - watching her lean over one customer to speak to another - a coworker jabs his ribs, grinning knowingly.

"She owns the place," he informs, and Kid can't look away from just how shapely she is, the way her curves are perfectly proportionate, "her name is Liz, I think."

From his other side someone else says, "Don't get too ahead of yourself, Kiddo," cringing, Kid finally tears his gaze away to glare, " she's way out of your league."

While they laugh, Kid thinks. He thinks about the way he's achieved everything thus far; with determination, dedication, and just the right amount of charm. While the position he obtained at the firm was much thanks to his father's input and reigning title, Kid is in no way undeserving of the job. His hard work put him miles above most of the classmates he graduated with.

Kid thinks about a challenge, and how when he wants something, he's got the right sort of work ethic to make it happen.


	3. story of a sweet talker

Monday's are slow.

For the majority of the morning there's only a customer or two, primarily older men, starting their 9-5. They usually don't talk much, aside occasional comments about the television, or a motion for another beer. She doesn't mind; she uses the down time to finish payroll, occasionally paint her nails or read a book. Sometimes, Soul will stop by with the girl from the third floor, Maka. They ran into each other on the elevator a couple of weeks ago; apparently her and Soul knew each other growing up, until she moved away. It was crazy, meeting each other again years later. Liz is glad he's found a friend. She knows how lonely he's been lately; with her long hours, and their opposite schedules.

If she dwells on it too long, the guilt makes her feel ill.

So she distracts herself with mindless things, inane tasks; cleaning, paperwork, packing up the 12:00 PM to go for the law firm two buildings down. The guys from the firm order from her a couple of times a week during lunch, and are always here Friday evenings unwinding. As thanks for their business she provides a variety of lunch trays for them during the work week. It's a big order, something she starts an hour before, now. If she's meticulous it takes about forty-five minutes, which is an excellent time killer. Lately, she's been ensuring herself ten minutes to spare, in order to clean herself up and check herself out. Normally she's not quite so vain, has always been sure of her appearance, but, well.

There's this guy.

She thinks he's new, has only started coming in the last week and a half, but before the guys took turns picking it up. Now, it's always him.

At first, she didn't even notice the extra time she spent making sure there was nothing on her face, or that her hair was sitting right. It wasn't until she found herself checking out how low her top came and if her skirt was showing enough thigh that she got weird about it. Sure, the first thing she noticed was how ridiculously good looking this guy was. How could she not, with his smart, fashionable suits and his striking yellow eyes. He was well spoken, charming in a quiet sort of way and she spent three days after her second encounter with him telling herself it was normal for her to want someone as handsome as him to notice her. It's no secret she's always been a flirt, being in a relationship never changed that part about her. Soul has always been accepting of it, never blinking unless someone got too close, but he was a laid back guy. Always supports her, no matter what.

She's not doing anything wrong, wanting to look good for a customer meant absolutely nothing. Besides, it's not even like they've even introduced themselves.

She blames the lack of time with her fiance for her insane paranoia about a situation that's not even really a situation at all. Engagement jitters, is all. Patti's been asking questions lately, pressing for her sister to get the ball rolling. After all, getting married is a big deal.

Liz knows it's because she wants to plan it, secretly, and she feels bad for not sharing her sisters enthusiasm. She's just been so busy. And if putting in some extra hours works as an excuse to postpone one of the biggest commitments she will ever make in life for just a little bit longer, she'll take it.

Her and Soul are so young still, it doesn't have to be right away. Some people are engaged for years.

These are all things she rehearses when she turns to look over her shoulder, eyeing the way her legs look in the pair of heels she picked for the day. It's three minutes until twelve, and that means she has three minutes until he shows up. Never a minute early, or a minute late.

By the time the windchimes tinkle above the front door, Liz has already situated herself behind the bar, leaning against the marble countertop with her book as she tries to seem like she didn't just spend five minutes waiting eagerly for him to come.

"Good afternoon," he says, quietly polite with the smile he gives her. She tries to ignore how her own stupid face smiles back, delighted at his acknowledgement.

"Hey," she responds, accepting the credit card he hands her wordlessly. Their silence is comfortable and unassuming, but Liz wants to say something else, anything else. It's good karma to have excellent customer service, or whatever, at least that's what she tells herself as mild encouragment, drumming her fingers on the register while she waits for his slips to print out.

"So, are you the new delivery boy?"

That's what she comes up with. A backhanded insult, however playfully she meant it.

Glancing up from where he's signing the slip, she's a little discouraged at how surprised he looks that she's speaking to him. Like he was content to continue this no nonsense business-client relationship they've had going on for almost two weeks now. Which, truthfully, Liz could see; he is, after all, some fancy-schmancy lawyer while she's from Middle of Nowhere, East Bumblefuck who managed to land a pretty sweet gig from someone she never even knew existed.

It's not like her mannerisms or sense of style are quite up to par with the rest of this city's. Besides, this rich kid spent years in a upscale university learning his trade. She just got lucky.

But after a moment, he grins at her again, a little smaller, almost embarrassed.

"You could say that," he answers, sheepish, "new blood, and all. Lawyers are just as cut throat as in the cinemas."

"Hard knock life," she deadpans, resting her elbows on the bar again and leaning toward him, just a bit. She thinks about body language, how she thinks she must look like she's trying to entice him. He doesn't move away, just lifts his eyes to hers in a way that looks conspiring.

"Instead of treated," he agrees, solemly, and Liz lets out a short laugh. So he's got a sense of humor.

The desire to keep him talking stirs eagerly inside of her, for a reason she isn't sure of. There's something lingering under his cool exterior, and high priced suit, she's sure of it.

It'd be nice for her to make a friend too, is all. With all of her time spent working, she hasn't had much of a chance to explore the city, meet new people. Besides Soul and Patti, she left all of her other friends across the country. There's no chance of her running into old acquaintances. She has to find new ones. While she's sure his undeniable good looks first caught her eye, she knows she isn't that shallow, really, and her yearning for a friend is what's mostly spurring her interest in him.

He kind of seems like he needs a friend, too. So unlike the fast talking, brass nature of the other members of the firm with his gloomy and kind of prudish appearance. How he sipped his wine when they all stopped in after work last Friday, sitting quietly and not partaking in their braying laughs and outlandish comments to the waitresses.

As he picks up the box, Liz realizes she's running out of time. It's Thursday, almost the end of the week and by the weekend she thinks she might lose her nerve. It's silly, how nervous she feels about this. She hasn't had to "make a friend" since her junior year of high school, and she didn't think she was too bad at it back then, when having friends was the most crucial part of her life. Now, it seems harder as an adult, finding the right words for a stranger in a city full of so many of them.

"I - " she starts, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, an anxious habit. Their banter from a moment ago feels short lived.

"My name is Kid," he blurts, fumbling with his grip, and he shifts on his feet like he was unsure if he was supposed to introduce himself.

It's her turn to be surprised; it's like he stole the words from her mouth.

Had he...?

The feeling of relief she gets is one that seems nostalgic, like when your first crush smiles at you in middle school.

"I'm Liz. Well, Elizabeth. But mostly just Liz."

"Liz," he repeats, as if tasting the name, to see how he likes how it sounds. "Liz, okay. Thank you very much for your service to us, we are all very appreciative during lunch. I hope the rest of your day goes well, and I will ah, perhaps see you tomorrow."

The last part he seems to try and not phrase as too much of a question, like he's trying to keep himself from sounding hopeful. Her cheeks warm, just the slightest bit.

"Yeah," she says, "have a good one, Kid."

She smiles dumbly at his retreating figure long after he's disappeared through the door.

Because she works the opening shift on Mondays, she finishes around five. Normally she heads home, but Soul had texted her a bunch of random emoticons which she can only assume means he's hungry. So from work, with her own bag of food to go, she hails a cab and has herself dropped off at the tattoo parlor he works at.

Maka is leaving as she is entering, which is slightly bizarre, but Liz is too distracted with trying to answer Patti that she doesn't dwell too much on it. Just offers a hurried hello to the pigtail haired girl and waves as she sets off down the street. It had seemed, as Maka had stuttered and giggled hello, that she had maybe been trying to talk to her, for which Liz feels bad for blowing her off. She'll have to tell Soul to tell her Liz hadn't meant to be rude.

"Here, you big baby," she says, grinning fondly as she sets the bag down in front of him.

Mischeviously, Soul glances up from his sketches before pulling out his phone and typing a message. When her phone buzzes, she rolls her eyes when she sees his message of hearts and smiley faces.

"How was work," he murmurs against her mouth as she kisses him hello.

"Long," she complains, "and heels are not meant for just standing around in."

Snickering, Soul rolls his chair back to peer around the back of his fiancee, leering just a bit.

"Statistics say heels do wonders for a woman's ass, though," he says, with mock sincerity. Arching an eyebrow, Liz places her hands on her hips, that familiar feeling of playfulness creeping back up her spine. She misses this, between them, his snarky comments, but she knows if she waits up until he gets home, he'll rub her sore feet.

"Oh yeah?" She challenges, knocking his jaw gently with her knuckles, "How about I let you be the judge of that later?"

For the shortest of seconds, Soul falters, almost like he isn't quite sure what she's hinting at. Before, he would have immediately had a comeback, something smooth and dirty that would have made her insides feel hot.

For the shortest of seconds, Liz feels unmeasurably guilty again.

But he doesn't let the brief uncertainty deter him; just bares his teeth, red eyes devouring her body, top to bottom.

"Sounds like a date," he growls, pulling her down to kiss him once more.


	4. then any boy you'll ever meet

**A/N: HEY GUYS. I miss the internet. Sorry for the delay! Also, my apologies if this seems rushed. It's late and I am just eager to get into the actual plot of this fic. Enjoy!**

As it turns out, Kid is a guy very keen on habits.

The same, routine habits. Liz truthfully doesn't want to use the word obsessive, it's got such a negative connotation, but she isn't quite positive on another right term. Not only has he got a knack for showing up exactly at the same time, she discovers he does it on purpose. One day while waiting for him to pick up the lunch order she's adjusting some of the decorations outside the bar when she spots him a few buildings down, shuffling uncomfortably where he stood. She had called his name, waving, and when he had turned to look his entire body stilled. It was three minutes until he would normally walk through the front door and he appeared to be...waiting.

Of course, this had just been her speculation until when he had actually walked up and Liz had teased him about it.

The expression of mild discomfort he wore made Liz want to apologize and she wasn't even sure why.

"Yeah, ah," he murmured, straightening his suit jacket, "something like that."

Liz doesn't mention it again, but she notices it more. How he meticulosly folds his tie and jacket on Friday nights when the firm stops in for their post work drinks, placing them away in his briefcase. Or how he unbuttons the first four buttons of his shirt eight times before settling with it open. None of his coworkers seem to notice, or if they do, they don't mention it. Which is odd, because they mention everything about everyone else, including her waitresses. There seems to be some sort of respect from the older guys toward Kid, despite his young age and how new he is.

Liz notices these things because she's watching. Even though she swears to herself that she isn't, on more than one occasion she's caught herself looking for the shadows of ink underneath the white dress shirts, wondering if he's covered in tattoos, like Soul. Or if his skin is pristine, like everything else about him.

On the third Friday from their initial introduction, the firm comes in more boisterous than usual; customers glancing around curiously before they even entered the building. You could hear their yells down the street.

"ELIZABETH!"

From where she's pouring a beer from behind the bar, Liz glances up.

"A ROUND OF DRINKS FOR EVERYONE IN THIS PLACE ON ME," Black Star - his name is Blake, or something, but on their first meeting some odd months ago he insisted that outside of his job he goes by his nickname.

 _Life is too short to wear ties too tight, he had said, solemn and completely wasted._

 _She had laughed, not really knowing what he was talking about, but he had covered her hand, so serious._

 _F'real, he had pressed, being so sincere it had made Liz laugh harder, be the person you wanna be and do what you wanna do. Variety is the spice of life._

Slamming his card down on the bar he demands, "And a round of the best whiskey you have for my pals and I here, because guess who just won the Asura case."

There's a proud grin on his face, gloating and nothing short of smug, but Liz gasps happily, clapping her hands together, "Wow! Congratulations Black Star, that's amazing!"

"Well, I am a fucking god," he drawls, but he looks pleased, if not the slightest bit relieved. It had been one of the most talked about cases in the city; Liz knew this was a big deal for not only Black Star, but the firm itself.

Behind him, Kid claps a hand on his shoulder, wearing a similar expression of pride, "For tonight only, he is a god amongst men."

Over his friend's shoulder, Kid catches her eyes, and his smile fades into something quieter, more personal. Seemingly just for her.

"Hi," he mouths, gold his positively gleaming.

"Hello," she mouths back, and it's stupid, the shy, dreamy feeling she gets when she sees him smile just a bit harder.

Having not noticed the exchange, Black Star drums his hands impatiently, and shouts, "LETS DRINK, PEONS."

As the bar cheers, glasses raised, even Liz partakes in the celebatory shot."

"Hear, hear," she says, clanking their glasses together, having poured the three of them another round.

"Uh oh," Tsubaki says, dipping around Liz to grab a frosted mug, "am I gonna have to close tonight, boss?" She teases.

For a moment, Liz stills, words like _responsibility_ and _too good to be true_ echoing around in her mind. She doesn't remember the last time she got drunk. Or went out. Or had a good time. Her life has been a whirlwhind of work, work, work, making sure Patti is getting the school funding she needs, trying to find time for her fiance and -

"We will be kidnapping dear Elizabeth, tonight," Kid says, interrupting her inward panic and the easy expression he's giving her makes Liz wonder if he knew, somehow, "because unfortunately for her, she's earned herself a spot in our troupe."

"No, no," she replies quickly, shaking her head, "I couldn't possibly -"

"The great Black Star does not take no for an answer," he threatens, green eyes narrowing.

"Shoo," Tsubaki says, waving her hands, "go enjoy yourself. You have closed for the past two weeks. Have some fun, miss."

A few others have joined the corner of the bar where they're standing, and they hoot encouragingly.

"I really shouldn't, there's so much I have to do tomorrow," she tries one last time, wavering only slightly.

"How about this," Kid says, holding a hand up, "I will personally take on the responsibility of making sure you remain coherent enough to get through the day tomorrow."

Some of the guys jeer at this, but Kid pays no mind, just presses, "Scouts honor."

Next to her, Tsubaki squeezes her wrist reassuringly, "Go. Enjoy. Quit being such a workaholic for once."

Sighing, Liz gives her best put upon and defeated face, shrugging, "Well, I guess..."

The cheers they give almost beat the ones Black Star received.

The atmosphere in the bar that night remains good natured and infectous. Liz busies herself with occasionally checking on patrons, running rounds of drinks, but mostly in joining the festivities. Tsubaki was right, she is a workaholic, and it has been far too long since she's just had a night to herself like this.

And it's nice, hanging out with the people in her bar, instead of just serving them. Everyone keeps handing her drinks and shots, snapping pictures with her; and while she's more intoxicated then she intended, the overwhelming sense of pride in herself is unshakable.

She did this. She created this place people love, this place that she loves, and it's all coming together finally. Finally, she's getting to immerse herself in her new home and party with the new friends she's made.

What she doesn't notice, though, is how she's been circling Kid all night, sticking close to his side, inserting herself in his conversations. He's fun to talk to, has this dry sense of humor that Liz finds hysterical. He's drunker than Liz has ever seen him before, by far, cheeks flushed and shirt rumpled. She wants to tease him about how disheveled her looks, but remembers the last time she tried that and refrains.

Instead she reaches out, swaying forward only slightly, and smooths her hands against the wrinkled shoulders of his shirt.

"There," she says, nodding happily to herself.

"Pardon?" Kid questions, quirking an eyebrow, but he doesn't move away from her touch. Quite the opposite, actually, though Liz does nothing to stop the hand he uses the steady her, the coolness of the bottle he's holding pressing into the exposed skin of her hip.

Squealing, she tightens her stomach muscles, shying away, but Kid follows easily, crowding just a little bit closer. If Liz wasn't so drunk, she might have paid attention to their body language, how it's more enticing than normal and she might have thought of Soul and a few hundred other things that would have had her kept some distance.

"Hey," she says, pouting playfully, "hey, cold."

It's the first time Liz has ever heard him laugh out loud, and the sound startles something in her spine, a burst of warmth that spreads all the way to her fingertips.

"My sincerest apologies," he says, "however may I make it up to you."

Grabbing his wrist, Liz winks at him, "Hm, be my girlfriend tonight."

Kid laughs again, and Liz thinks she could get used to the sound, so low and melodic and it's her that's the cause of it. She wants to keep it in her pocket.

"I don't think I'm following."

"That's what you do," she responds, starting off toward the bathroom, "follow me."

She leads him through the crowd of people who are all standing around talking, or dancing, and wow it really is busy tonight. Making a mental note to check in on her staff after she pees, she stops short when she sees the line of people waiting to use the restroom.

Kid, who had stuck close as they had weaved their way through the mass of sweaty bodies, abruptly runs into her.

"Oof," Liz grunts, peering back over her shoulder with narrowed eyes, "that's strike two."

"Helpless moth," Kid says, using his free hand to gesture to himself, and then her, "big burning flame."

Leaning back, Liz nudges him with her shoulder, "That's a good one. I like that." Squeezing his wrist lightly, she then drops her hand and laces their fingers, deciding to make a move. That line is far too long. "Luckily, I am the boss." She says, more to herself, and once again she drags them to the other side of the building to the wooden door that says 'Staff Only.'

Fumbling for her keys that are hooked on the beltloop of her shorts, Kid helps her by unhooking them himself, then handing them over.

"Thanks, pal," she jabs, but it's light.

"Just looking out."

Unlocking the door, they walk into the office, and Kid looks around the room in teasing wonder. There are stupid posters and knick knacks all over from the staff, and Liz feels like a teenager bringing a boy into her bedroom for the first time.

"Wait here," she orders, "and don't touch the drop box, or I'll sue you."

"You would never win," he says seriously.

"I beg to differ, for I am a hot girl," she argues, "but before this discussion continues, lemme piss."

Snorting at her foul language, Kid rocks back and forth on his heels, peering up at the ceiling, "Ah, so that's what you meant by be your girlfriend."

"What'd you think I was gay?" She asks snarkily, closing the door tothe private bathroom behind her. Once alone, she finds the silence almost defeaning, the seclusion from the bar having blocked out all the noise from the music. Clumsily she pulls her shorts down, stumbling a little in her wedges.

She finds herself saying Kid's name a few times, in her intoxication, though she can't figure out why.

"Kid, Kid, Kid," she repeats, tasting the name on her tongue. What a bizarre name. Kid. Who names their child that?

As she's washing her hands, she checks herself out in the mirror. The roots of her hair are slightly damp with sweat, but her makeup isn't smudged too much. Her cheeks are bright red, from heat and alcohol, but she looks cute still. It's been awhile since she's felt this relaxed, this confident in herself.

When she opens the door again, she's surprised to find Kid standing right outside of it.

"Were you listening to me pee?" She inquires, leering at him mockingly.

"No!" He denies, appearing alarmed, "Of course not, I would never do - I was just about to make sure you were okay, is all."

Snickering, Liz pinches his side, making him twitch, "Relax, Prince Charming, I'm joking. You don't strike me as a closet pervert, but you know what they say about the quiet ones..."

It's pretty dim in the office still, she didn't flick on the main switch when they entered, so she chalks the kind of predatory expression on Kid's face up to just her imagination and low lighting. So when he shifts closer again, so that their hips are nearly pressed together, Liz doesn't notice.

"No," he informs her flatly, "please enlighten me, just what do they say?"

His voice is low and close, breath hot against the side of her neck, and whoa, he is pretty close, when did that happen? In her stomach is something liquid and warm, pooling slowly at his proximity and the scent of his cologne and sweat. He smells so utterly masculine that Liz's hands clench at how weak her knees feel, and this she knows, this she can catch up with. This is her being seduced, she knows, and he's not even doing it on purpose. This is Liz being a flirt and lonely and drunk. This is where Liz should be stepping back, not flattening her hands against his stomach, touch light but firm as she slides them up his sides, over the juts of his ribcage. He's feels skinny, like he looks, but there's still a softness about him that has her inching just a fraction closer.

New friends, she thinks, and she has to tilt her head back to look up at him despite her heels, and it's something she's never had to do with a guy before. Something she never knew she liked about guys until this very moment.

"Liz," he breathes, voice catching a bit in his throat, "you - "

The sound of someone entering the office makes them step apart, startled and Liz's heart is hammering in her chest. What was she doing? What had she been about to do?

"Oh!" Tsubaki says cheerfully, and she doesn't appear to be aware of the electricity in the room, still sparking and flickering, "there you are! Your sister is here! She's been looking for you."

"O-okay," Liz replies, hesitating for only a moment before stepping around Kid, pulse still beating wildly. She wonders if he feels as shaken as she does. Too afraid to look at his face, she resists looking back as she passes by her employee, "You can use that bathroom," she calls back, as the music overwhelms them again. Whatever silence they had is shattered now, and Liz is eager to go meet up with Patti.

What the fuck had she been doing?

 **A/N: Be sure to leave some prompts over on my tumblr for my other fic, Never Felt So Good. Or even just say hi. Whichever! Thanks for reading!**


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